Old and rickety
Yet poised and graceful
The ijele dancer sits
In her hey-days she was
The towns shinning pride
An artefact, secret weapon
Brought out only in times
Of dire distress
When losing a dance battle with
The next village seemed imminent
And true to her praise she delivered

That was when towns
Fought good naturedly
Their guns the Udu drums
Their bullets the ekwe
Then the ogene; war cry
Dissolving deep into the
Crowd’s blood, they
Get chanting
The sweat the inspiration
They need to dance,
They tremble in response to
The beats, calling, calling

Ijele then was sacred
Only the select few were
Allowed into the upper echelon
To master its skill and precision
But she was the best of the best
And that was then

Now the ijele dancer sits
Gracefulness imbued into her
Like a second skin
Nothing she had seen in
Lifetime could mellow it
Not the death of her four sons
Not her husband’s cold scorn
Not the barrenness of her youngest daughter
Nor the slavery of her grandchildren
In faraway lands in the name
Of education and the queen
The ijele’s gracefulness keeps her
Neck upright and stiff; iron ore
There is more where it came from

She looks down now at the
Stuffed leopard skin laid out
Before her
Her eyes are not what they used to be
The leopard head roars as if
In understanding of her brooding thoughts
It is only in her mind’s eye
Her eyes move back to the open door
A moisture in it betrays her train of thoughts
They focus on the figure in the doorway
She had been expecting him

So she sits
Watching him and waiting
And as soon as he begins playing
She shuts her eyes and leans back
Allowing herself join the
Realm of reminiscing
Carried there by the mournful tone
Of the Oja, she sees herself
Younger now, unmarried
Unburdened taking daintily the
The delicate energetic steps of the ijele
Moving her feet in rhythm
She smiles
Ijele; the body never forgets

-written by Oluchi
Adapted from tooXclusive

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